Dart and other meetings
A whimsical flick through the Faber and Faber Poetry Diary 2013 led to an encounter with Alice Oswald’s ‘Woods etc’. I remember reading that poem aloud several weeks later, during a lunchtime of poetry in the school library, and feeling the nerves of public speaking fizzle into the goosebumps
North
North in search of a true-nature tribe the proper study of man became everything a hot hidden Africa, a colonial playground except bullet-proof like sugar spring and lips lined with logic and maps tasks, deadlines, gadgets, whole constellations tuned without a whisper of here and honey and wholy thi
Kin calling out the past like a foreigner
‘Citizen’ is a charged and genre-defying artwork about institutionalised racism.
The Bees
Poetry: “The bees are going down, you know, it’s a well known fact / statistically but also purely / anecdotally, because the ground is suddenly / pebbled with the dead little things.”
Rift Valley
Poetry: “Nothing in the hushed hills, / the mute, grey ascent, to ready us for that / gash of gutted earth.”
neglect
Poetry: "he moves beyond reach / and I fade into relative neglect …"
To Chelsea
Clinton. If the name stings, will you wear the veil while tending the bees? When the dynasty burns, will you carry the water jug or the torch? Did you envy the man with the face tattoo? Avoid strangers who claimed they knew you? I do. It’s only a story, says Chelsea. Today it’s me, tomorrow [&he